I hang on a few of your words

the same way someone hangs from a burning building.

I sleep with
sharp objects
when you're not there.

blood orange dripping
from my rib cage.

my mattress asks
Are you okay?

I use my eyes to have a conversation
with the sky
in a language
I'm not sure I should speak
yet.

How do you hang from a burning building?

I wish I didn't.